


Tricky Little Minx

by Itsquiettime



Series: Haunted Septiween 2016 [25]
Category: Septiplier - Fandom, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Halloween, Haunted Septiween 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 11:56:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8371420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsquiettime/pseuds/Itsquiettime
Summary: Thanks to a super cute and special friend of mine, I decided to write another one of these! 
Day 24: Angel“I thought demons used to be angels.”
Part 2 of One Hell of a Grandmother





	

“You want me to what now?” 

Jack sighed and rubbed his temples, “For the love of- look, all I need you to do is take these to my grandmothers.  That’s it.” 

Mark twitched slightly, “Nah.  No way. Those crazy old bats make my horns itch.” 

“Mark, please.” 

“It’s true.  Besides, you people seem to keep mistaking me for a delivery boy.  Do I have ‘Satan’s postal service!’ tattooed on my ass?”

“No,” Jack sighed, “Not the last time I checked, anyway.” 

Mark wiggled his eyebrows, “Would you like to check again?” 

Jack glared at him, “Can you just take those buns to my grandmothers? Please?  I feed you and put a roof over your head and clothes on your back, the least you could do is deliver one simple package for me.” 

“I’m not giving either of those hags my buns, Jack.  Those are only for you.” 

“Mark, do not, I repeat: Do. Not.  Drop your pants in front of either of them.  They may have a heart attack and I will not be held responsible for sending them into an early grave.”  Jack felt like banging his head against the wall, “Just take the buns that I hand fucking made from scratch _specifically for them_ and deliver them.  That’s all I’m asking.  You could just put the box down on the doorstep and ding dong ditch it.” 

Mark raised an eyebrow, “And if they’re outside trimming up their garden?” 

“Then throw the damn thing at the poor, unsuspecting old women, Mark just deliver it.   _Why_ are you so scared of them?” 

“Have you _met_ them?” 

Jack’s shoulders sagged, “Why did I think this would be easy?  I thought you would be a nice guy!  I thought demons used to be angels.” 

“You’ve obviously never met an angel.  Angels are dicks, man.” 

“Fine,” Jack said as he threw up his arms, “If you’re going to be stubborn, then I’m just going to have to pull out the big guns.” 

Mark tilted his head to the side, confused at what Jack could mean. 

In seconds, Jack’s whole demeanor changed.  He relaxed his posture, tilted his head, lowered his eyelids, and slowly brought his mouth into a sultry smirk. 

Ah, shit.  

“Mark,” Jack dragged his name out into a moan as he made his way toward him, swinging his hips from side to side in a way that made Mark drool, “Please.” 

“Um.”  Mark’s words failed him as he watched his demise approach him.

Jack stood directly in front of Mark, looking up at him through his lashes and smiling coyly, a light blush crawled across his cheekbones.  Mark couldn’t articulate any sort or response, or think, as Jack placed one finger right above his jeans, scratching his stomach through the thin material of his T-shirt.  He lost more and more of his breath and Jack began to walk his fingers up his stomach and chest.  As his fingers came to a stop between his collar bones, Mark tilted his head back slightly. 

A hot puff of air against his skin was the only warning he got before a warm, wet tongue pressed into the hollow of his throat and began to lave its way up to his chin.  Once there, Jack began to nibble, “Please?”  He whispered, all need and want and Irish accented lust. 

“Y-yes.” Mark couldn’t remember what he was agreeing to, but his knees were about to give out and if Jack didn’t move this somewhere else, they were both going to be flailing puddles on the floor. 

Immediately every sensation was ripped away as Jack sprang away from him. “Great!! Thanks babe!” Jack exclaimed, bouncing on his feet, “I still need to bake these Halloween cookies for the party, so I’ll still be in the kitchen when you come back.  Be safe! Love you!” 

And with that, a box of buns – certainly not the buns he wanted – was shoved into his hands and he was pushed out the door.  

The door slammed behind him and it took a few moments for Mark’s brain to register what had happened.  He growled, he would have to take revenge on his tricky little human, and oh how revenge would be _so sweet_.


End file.
